Tangled Up With My Brother’s Best Friend Read online

  Tangled Up With My Brother’s Best Friend

  Taylor Holloway

  Copyright © 2020 by Taylor Holloway

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About This Book

  1. Ainsley

  2. Holden

  3. Ainsley

  4. Holden

  5. Holden

  6. Ainsley

  7. Holden

  8. Ainsley

  9. Holden

  10. Ainsley

  11. Holden

  12. Ainsley

  13. Holden

  14. Holden

  15. Ainsley

  16. Holden

  17. Ainsley

  18. Holden

  19. Ainsley

  20. Ainsley

  21. Holden

  22. Holden

  23. Ainsley

  24. Ainsley

  25. Holden

  26. Ainsley

  27. Holden

  28. Ainsley

  29. Holden

  30. Ainsley

  31. Ainsley

  32. Ainsley

  33. Holden

  34. Holden

  35. Ainsley

  36. Holden

  37. Ainsley

  38. Holden

  39. Holden

  40. Holden

  41. Holden

  42. Holden

  43. Ainsley

  44. Holden

  45. Ainsley

  46. Holden

  47. Holden

  48. Ainsley

  49. Holden

  50. Holden

  51. Ainsley

  52. Ainsley

  53. Ainsley

  54. Ainsley

  55. Ainsley

  56. Holden

  57. Ainsley

  58. Holden

  59. Ainsley

  60. Ainsley

  61. Holden

  62. Ainsley

  63. Holden

  64. Holden

  65. Ainsley

  66. Holden

  Epilogue: Ainsley

  Baby and the Beast

  Admit You Want Me

  Also by Taylor Holloway

  After years stuck playing the invisible girl, I finally managed to get my brother’s best friend’s attention.

  All I had to do was go through puberty, bribe my roommate into doing my makeup, and stride into his Hollywood audition like I had the slightest idea what I was doing.

  And for approximately five glorious minutes, my plan worked.

  Holden Prince--who in addition to being a filthy rich and famous film director is also the hottest man in all creation—couldn’t stop staring at me.

  After years of him being the strong, silent, sexy, utterly oblivious type, he was finally seeing me.

  He wanted me, and I don’t just mean professionally.

  Then he realized that I’m his best friend’s little sister, and it all went to hell in a hand-basket.

  Now he thinks he needs to protect me from… himself. And all of Hollywood.

  And probably puddles, crossing the street, scary dogs, and spooky ghost stories too.

  My brother’s overprotective crap must’ve rubbed off.

  But he doesn’t realize who he’s dealing with here.

  I’m all grown up now, and this former ugly duckling is on a mission to make all my dreams come true.

  Starting with making Holden Prince fall in love with me.

  ‘Tangled Up With My Brother’s Best Friend’ is a sweet and sexy romcom featuring an alpha Hollywood hero and a stubborn, sassy heroine on a crazy road to happily ever after. It stands alone with no cheating, cliffhangers, or nonsense.

  1

  Ainsley

  “Okay,” Becca told me. “You’re officially ready to go. You can open your eyes now.”

  I swallowed hard at the tremulous excitement in her voice. She’d always been fond of practical jokes. What if she had made me look like a clown-hooker from outer space? Or a dude? She had the skills to make me look like a man if she wanted to—I’d seen her stage makeup before.

  Last year, she made me into a fairly convincing man for a production of Twelfth Night. I squeezed my eyes shut in fear. I might have been convincing, but I wasn’t a particularly good-looking man. Short, soft, with sloping shoulders and wide hips. Weirdly evil-looking with that big nose and freaky-ass goatee she gave me, too.

  “Seriously,” my roommate told me. I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Take a look. See what helping me pack up all my crap has bought you.” She laughed and then grumbled, “Not that I wouldn’t have done it for free.”

  I opened my eyes wide and took a slow, deep breath.

  The person in the mirror in front of me was still very much a female. And me. Only better than normal. Way, way better.

  I could write term papers until I was blue in the face. I could make the Dean’s List and play the lead in The Crucible in the same term without breaking a sweat. I could run a mile in twelve minutes and do the electric slide. I could memorize practically anything that I read in a matter of seconds and retain it for, like, years. But I couldn’t do makeup to save my life. It fell into that nebulous world of artistic visual stuff that also encompassed drawing, painting, calligraphy, photography, and other things I sucked at. Cue Becca, the world’s best, most enabling and mischievous roommate. Losing her over summer break when I went home to the west coast and she went on a damn mission trip to Mexico was going to crush me. Who goes anywhere for three months with no cell phone access? Crazy people like Becca, that’s who.

  “Damn,” I told her, “I really ought to learn how to use makeup. You did an incredible job. Thank you.”

  “Thank you!” she beamed. “Was it worth skipping your math final?”

  “Totally.”

  Fuck math. I’m pretty now.

  My blue eyes were defined with tasteful eyeliner, smoky-yet-appropriate shadow and thick, fake lashes. My pale skin was glowing with the peachy glow of highlighter and the flush of whatever blush she’d managed to apply in such a way that I looked awake and alive—not sunburned. Expertly applied lipstick made my mouth look full and sexy. If there was ever a perfect makeup look for a big audition, this was it. I was ready.

  I re-added learning makeup skills to my long mental to-do list, right behind learning to ride a bike, becoming punctual, and losing my pesky virginity.

  Speaking of which… “Shit! I’m late!”

  I sprung into motion, scooping up my second-hand designer bag, straightening my very carefully selected outfit, and slipping on the heels that were one hundred percent going to destroy my feet later.

  “Godspeed Ainsley,” Becca told me, sitting back smugly and watching me dash out the door. “Go catch the plane. Fly across the country. Get the guy. Get the job. Rule the world.”

  Words to live by.

  Now all I had to do was make it happen.

  I paused. “Wait,” I said, whirling back around to throw my arms around Becca’s narrow shoulders. “Thank you so much and have a great trip to Mexico. I’m gonna’ miss you!” My eyes were burning at the corners because after this afternoon it would be three whole months before I’d see her again.

  “Go!” she admonished. “We already did all the sappy goodbyes so you wouldn’t smear the mascara, remember?”

  “Remember?” I grumbled, “I’m still hung over from last night’s rosé and action
movie romantic comedy marathon.”

  “Then go!” she repeated, turning me around and giving me a tiny little push. “You’re gonna’ miss your big chance.”

  I nodded and hightailed it out the door, attempting to ignore the pinch of the heels on my feet. I could endure these shoes for a few hours. It would be worth it.

  Holden Prince, you are mine, I thought to myself as I pulled out of the bungalow I shared with Becca, and made my way towards the airport, you and the job of my dreams.

  2

  Holden

  “Maybe she doesn’t exist,” I told Devan. My voice sounded as despondent as I felt. My friend had suggested an open call for my urgent casting needs, but clearly, he overestimated the talent pool in the entire city of Los Angeles. Turns out, it was more of a talent puddle. “There is officially no woman in this city that can play Princess Amaranth,” I sighed. “I really need a cigarette and a nap.”

  It was time to declare defeat. I’d tried. I really had.

  It wasn’t every day a major Hollywood director at a studio sends out an open casting call. The turnout to see me had been sky high. I’d now seen every sorority girl, theater geek, midwestern transplant, and wannabe actress the city had to offer—and good Lord did it have a lot to offer—but it had all been a waste. I was tired, hungry, and annoyed.

  Devan made a disinterested grunt on the other end of the line.

  “No naps. Keep at it.” Devan’s voice was adamant. “And don’t you dare have a cigarette. You’re six months into a good thing here. Don’t you want to make it to thirty? Don’t ruin it now because you’re having a stressful morning.”

  “Just one,” I said, knowing my justification to myself sounded hollow and weak. “Just to take the edge off.” A cigarette sounded so very good right now. It would take my mind off things for a moment. Sure, I’d feel guilty and ashamed later, but that was later. This was now…

  “Keep busy. Keep the auditions running,” Devan pushed me, knowing that I’d called him at least in part to keep myself from succumbing to my nicotine addiction again. “If you stay busy, you won’t think so much about smoking.”

  I didn’t have a whole lot of choice but to do exactly that. Aside from my desire to kick the stupid, unhealthy habit, my own pride and obsession with this project—and the enormous line of waiting actresses—I had a family legacy to uphold here. The Prince name used to carry a lot of weight in Hollywood, but lately our influence was waning. Another reason I wanted a damn cigarette—the pressure.

  My oldest brother, Tommy, had recently decided to say ‘fuck it’ to Hollywood and his entire life so far. He walked away from one of the most profoundly successful leading actor careers that the world had ever seen to go finish up his math degree with his wife. Oh, and he told the Academy to suck it on live, national TV. Seriously. What a waste.

  My next-oldest brother, Derek, had recently taken off for Broadway with his fiancé. Derek was always more of a theater type, so I wasn’t really surprised. He just won his third Tony this year.

  That just left me and Peter. At least he was still working and had a booming career as the king of action films. The only problem, if you could call it that, was that Peter’s wife just gave birth to their first child. So, he was temporarily busy being a dad. That just left me to dominate Hollywood. Luckily, I was up to the challenge.

  Baby-making, Broadway, and a math degree were not on my current to-do list (or likely, any to-do list I might ever create). Me? I’d rather win a bunch of Oscars and make a million amazing films.

  “Maybe the open casting call was a bad idea,” I groused.

  “Did you have a better one?” he asked. “And don’t say a cigarette.”

  I’d for sure been going to say ‘a cigarette.’

  “No,” I admitted. “I really don’t.”

  The quiet, tranquil office that I’d spent the entire day in was beginning to feel like a prison. I usually appreciated the minimalism, but the feeling had worn off. The featureless walls swallowed up all light and hope. I’d watched an endless parade of cute little coeds come in and read for the part today, but my movie didn’t need a cute little coed. It needed a damn warrior princess masquerading as a cute little coed. “And five hundred auditions later, I’m no closer to finding what I was looking for. In fact, I may have lost ground. My brain is entirely fried now.”

  I was looking for something special. Someone special. Princess Amaranth wasn’t a major character in ‘The Winter Castle,’ but she was crucial. My movie just wouldn’t work without her. Although not the lead, Princess Amaranth was the lynchpin. This movie was one I’d been wanting to make my entire career, but it wasn’t going to be easy. This was my ‘Lord of the Rings.’ It had to be perfect. Perfect.

  “What exactly are you looking for again?” Devan asked, inadvertently reading my mind.

  He would know, if he’d read the classic children’s book. But he was Devan, so he hadn’t. Although nerdy in his own way, Devan was nerdy in a very different way from me. He’d never been into high fantasy or Sci Fi like me. He was into… wait for it… sports. How dull.

  I thought about his question for a moment. It wasn’t the easiest thing to put into words. Amaranth was a complicated character.

  “Well?” Devan asked. I was kind of glad he was thousands of miles away so he couldn’t see me daydreaming.

  “She has to be ethereally beautiful, but also sexy,” I explained eventually. “Smart and fierce but also vulnerable. Young but still somehow ageless. An old soul. And she has to be able to believably command a battlefield full of soldiers while still being a little, cute, elven princess.”

  “Do you want to cast her or date her, Holden?” Devan teased. “You got all sentimental while describing your elf princess.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, although of course he couldn’t see. “Yeah, that’s me,” I joked. “Mr. Sentimental.”

  Devan laughed. I was, by far, the most pragmatic and least emotional of us two. And compared to my three very emotionally sensitive brothers, practically autistic. That was probably why they all ended up as performers and I went into directing. Sharing my feelings was not exactly my strong suit. I was often described as being cold, distant, and even unpleasant. But ordering people around worked great for me, and it turns out I’m pretty good at it, too.

  However, just because I didn’t typically run around being emotional, didn’t mean I lacked emotions. I just didn’t like advertising them in front of strangers (another reason I sucked as an actor). The idea that I was getting sentimental was ridiculous.

  “Still sounds like you’ve got the hots for the fictional princess that’s only in five scenes of this movie,” Devan told me.

  “Oh, for sure. You cracked it. I’m in love with the mystical, fictional elf girl. That’s my whole problem here.” I was being sarcastic, but mostly I just didn’t want to admit that I’d genuinely had a massive crush on Princess Amaranth when I first read the book this movie was based on as a middle schooler. She’d been my dream girl. Maybe she still was, a little bit. It would be just like me to fall in love with an unattainable fictional character. Despite what everybody thought of me, I was not opposed to relationships in theory. Just in practice.

  “I knew it.” Devan’s reply was smug.

  “Right now, I just want to find her,” I told him. “I’d settle for that.”

  “Well, she probably isn’t standing in the line outside with that laundry list of requirements,” Devan admitted. “That’s a tall order you just set out.”

  “Probably not.” I sighed.

  “Then call off the blondes,” Devan suggested. “Why don’t you just call it a day? Give up. Go home. Have your cigarette. Put your feet up and admit defeat.”

  I frowned at him. “Give up?”

  “Isn’t that what you want to do? Give up?” he challenged.

  He was Jedi mind-tricking me. Taunting me with the shame of throwing in the towel. It wasn’t my style, and he knew it. I also knew he knew precisely w
hat he was doing, but I fell straight into his trap anyway.

  “Ugh no,” I said, standing up and stretching. The crick in my neck felt like it was strangling me. Nope, it was my tie. I took it off. “I can’t.”

  He laughed in my ear. “Just think. You could be here with me, right now. About to embark on a completely uncharted adventure into the wilderness. I wouldn’t let you bring any cigarettes and I guarantee you there’s nowhere to buy any within a hundred-mile radius of where I am right now.”

  “There’s also nowhere to buy toilet paper within a hundred-mile radius of where you are right now.”

  “What’s your point?”

  I shuddered. Nope. I could not live in a world without toilet paper. I’d rather be dead.

  Devan was off somewhere—he wouldn’t tell me exactly where, perhaps he didn’t know. He was on the hardest of hardcore camping/climbing/hunting adventure trips. “You know what?” I heard myself saying. “These auditions really aren’t that bad. Compared to whatever the hell you’re doing, it’s probably paradise.”